


The Archangel's Name is Schadenfreude

by Ghostinthehouse



Series: Stand Alone Omens [6]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Amnesia, And kind of creepy, Background Relationships, Gen, Memory Loss, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Post-Canon, Yes this is a weird one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:35:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26824492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostinthehouse/pseuds/Ghostinthehouse
Summary: Gabriel planned to take his revenge on the traitors by wiping their memories. But then it all went sideways....and rebounded on him
Series: Stand Alone Omens [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2198346
Comments: 8
Kudos: 71





	The Archangel's Name is Schadenfreude

Archangel Gabriel shook his head in disbelief. He'd come all this way to put a combined memory-wiping and power-binding spell on the traitors over there and instead of hitting them squarely, Aziraphale had lifted his hand at the last minute in some foolish magic trick and the spell had bounced off something reflective and come back at him. He could not believe he'd been foiled by something so- so _simple_. It was nothing of course, he was the Archangel Fucking Gabriel, he wasn't about to affected by his own spell, that would be silly. Nobody could be as foolish as that, especially not him. He looked down at himself, making sure his grey jogging suit blended in among the humans. He was going to watch the results of his spell. Of course he was going to watch. It would be very funny to watch their memories of each other slowly seep away, he would enjoy that piece of revenge after he threw the spell.

* * *

Archangel Gabriel shook his head. He was woolgathering when he was supposed to watching the traitors waiting for the right moment to - to - to take his revenge. He'd have to come up with something appropriate, something that felt right and would be funny to watch. He knew he would come up with the perfect spell, he was the Archangel Fucking Gabriel, it would be easy enough, and it would go off without a hitch. No spell would be so foolish as to go wrong for him, that would be silly. He looked down at his grey jogging suit, one that blended in among the humans. He might as well do some jogging while he was here. He could watch and blend in better, and he would enjoy the run.

* * *

Gabriel blinked at the path passing under his feet and shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He'd come down here for a reason, he knew he had. Something he was going to enjoy. What was it? He looked down at his jogging suit, and then back at the ground. He was running. He liked running, certainly, but was that all? He turned a corner and two people came into view. He didn't like them. He knew that, somehow. They'd done something, something big, something wrong. They were... Their names slipped away from him. Didn't matter. He was the Archangel Fucking Gabriel, and they were - they were traitors. They'd betrayed him, and now they were watching him. Well, he could watch them right back. He stepped off the path and glared.

* * *

Gabriel shook his head. What was he doing? There was - there was something important, something he ought to remember. "Something's wrong." He looked up and saw two people watching him. He didn't like them. Couldn't remember why, but he didn't like them. It must be them doing something wrong to him. He'd know if it wasn't, wouldn't he? He was the Archangel Gabriel, he knew things. "What did you do?" he demanded.

"We did nothing, dear boy," the shorter said softly. "You did this to yourself."

* * *

Gabriel shook his head. Something was wrong. What was he doing here? He couldn't remember. Well, it couldn't be that important if he couldn't remember. He was an important person. He was the Archangel Gabriel, he couldn't remember everything. He looked down at himself. He was wearing jogging clothes. In a park. Perhaps he'd come to jog. He enjoyed jogging, perhaps he'd been looking forward to it. He moved his feet experimentally, trying to remember how, and wobbled. He couldn't seem to focus. There were people looking at him. Two in particular. They looked familiar, but their names wouldn't come to him. "What am I doing?" he wanted to know. "I- I know you?"

"You're sitting down, _sunshine_ ," the taller one said, pulling him over to a bench. "Right there. Don't move."

* * *

He shook his head as if that would clear his confusion. He was - somewhere. He was sitting on a bench. What he was doing here, wherever 'here' was... It had to be important. He was important. He was Gabriel, people did what he told them. Most people. Some didn't. Couldn't remember what. It would come back to him, he was sure. In a minute. He'd sit here until it did. He looked up and saw two people watching him. One of them looked familiar, but he couldn't place him.

The other said softly, "It's speeding up, angel. Come and sit down, we'll guard him until it's over, for humanity's sake."

* * *

He frowned, puzzled, and shook his head. He had no reason to know two strangers, but he felt he ought to. As if there was something sliding just out of his reach, fading away like a morning mist. He'd remember if it was important, surely. He was - he felt he was important. Had to be true. People did what he told them, because he was- he was- Because he was Gabriel, yes, and important, and if he just sat for a moment, everything would be fine...

* * *

He shook his head. The world seemed very far away, like a dream. But he was sitting on a bench, in a park, in a jogging suit, and if there was something he was supposed to be doing, it would wait, sure as his name was- Gabriel, that was his name. Something to hold onto, like the bench. Like the matched, pitying, smiles of the two strangers watching him from the other bench.

* * *

He shook his head, forgetting for a moment how to balance, and whimpered as the world wobbled with the movement. He felt - funny. Not right. Couldn't remember what was wrong though. Just - something missing. He patted his jogging suit, looking for - whatever was missing - and found nothing. He put his head down for a moment, and waited for the fog in his head to clear. He was important. Someone would come and find him, soon. He'd know what to do then, sure as his name was- It was on the tip of his tongue. Couldn't catch it. Had a name, couldn't, couldn't remember....should remember? What should he remember?

He didn't hear the quiet snap of fingers from the other bench, or feel the miracled medallion slide into place around his neck ( _My name is Gabriel. I have amnesia. If found please return to_ \- and the address of the lobby between Heaven and Hell)

* * *

The man's head hurt. It felt foggy inside. He blinked and shook it vaguely as he lay on the bench. There was only the light. Light and shadow, in pretty patterns, all around him, like the two people on the other bench, dressed like light and shadow themselves and talking softly. It was nice, to sit here, and watch the patterns change as they walked away. He didn't remember anything else. Didn't feel he needed to. Didn't need a name. Didn't need words, though they made pretty patterns too. Just the light. Memory was no more than the light, coming and going, as his heavy eyelids blinked ever slower and he fell slowly, endlessly, into sleep.


End file.
